


Demons In Your Soul

by FrostIronAndStrawberries



Series: Demons in Your Soul [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, M/M, Past Tony/Loki in high school and university, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-11-28 16:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostIronAndStrawberries/pseuds/FrostIronAndStrawberries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Throughout high school and university, Loki Laufeyson and Tony Stark were the best of friends...until a one-night stand ruined it all. But years later, they meet again, and sparks fly once more. The only thing complicating it all? ...Loki is a world-class assassin and Tony is the famous superhero assigned by S.H.I.E.L.D to track him down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 'I'll Do It'

Ever since Loki Laufeyson and Tony Stark met in their first year of high school at the principal's office (Loki for insulting a teacher's intellect and making said teacher cry and Tony for getting bored and blowing up something in chemistry) they were best friends, practically inseparable. They were brought together for their desire for danger and trouble, their more than-slightly- rough family lives and inability to be understood by anyone other than each other. Their friendship was unrivalled, a match made in heaven, dangerous (well, for those around them) and together people started to fear that they would eventually become the school's downfall… which they weren't for the record. Soon into their friendship, they decided that it would not be worth it. 

Years later, they both gained scholarships to the same university (Tony had been offered several other scholarships during his early teen years to more than a few universities and colleges, to which he declined soon after meeting Loki). Loki was an arts major, and Tony was…well, Tony Stark: master of technology and intellect. At university, they met others like them, but never strayed far from each other: in fact, if you ever wanted to find one of them, the most common retort soon became "Wherever Tony is," or "Wherever Loki is". Their relationship even gained public recognition when the press got a hold of several pictures of the two of them together. But no matter what happened, they were always, always there for each other. 

Loki was always there after Tony's nights of drinking and partying to help him with the hangover and aftermath. 

Tony was always there to hold Loki when the bruises on his arms and the harsh words of his father that came with them became too much. 

And they were especially there for each other when they were actually caught and held accountable for one of their many pranks. But then again, most of the time, no one could really prove it was them anyway, so they ended up walking calmly from the main offices before cracking up, leaning on each other for support and snickering while doing it. 

And it was when these things started to happened that their relationship changed. Touches became longer, more lingering, stomachs started to flutter when their emerald green and deep brown ones met, and hearts started to beat faster when the other was around….which was a lot. Their flirting, which had always been palpable, was suddenly in full force and constant. Everyone started placing bets for went the two would finally get together, but it never happened. 

And not even the two of them could understand why. 

But eventually even university had to end. They both graduated top of their classes, and Tony threw a giant celebration party at one of his many giant mansions, so big that there actually had to be security guards to escort hopeful young people desperate to get in and paparazzi dying for photos of Tony drunk and embarrassing himself (…because that totally hadn't already happened before). 

And it was at that very party that everything went to absolute hell.

Tony had somehow convinced Loki, who was always so adamant about not drinking, to have one drink, which soon turned into two, and then three, then four, until both of them were completely and utterly wasted. And two drunk, secretly-in-love teenagers seeing each other for one of the last nights before they are being forced to part ways?

…Well, what do you think happened?

That night soon lead to shed clothes, tangled sheets, drunken confessions and moans in the dark. Feelings were revealed in the dead of night, whispers and promises made against pale skin and mingling with sweat and seldom-shared tears that neither realized they were shedding. Sparks flew, beautiful and blinding, as the two such closed-off people completely opened up and let their passion and feelings finally take over. But that night couldn't last forever, despite Loki and Tony's fervent wishes and prayers. 

…and the aftermath wasn't nearly as beautiful. 

Heats were broken, more tears shed and the two said things they still, to this day, regret and that haunt them. The morning ended with Loki storming out of Tony's mansion, heading off to England a few days later in order to find a new job (he soon discovered that art reminded him too much of Tony), while Tony went to live in New York City. 

The two never spoke or saw to each other again. 

Tony went on to become the person everyone knows him as today: genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist and superhero/Avenger Iron Man. He met Pepper, and finally met somehow other than Loki who understood and could put up with him (but she still wasn't Loki, although Tony pushed that fact as best he could to the back of his mind). The two eventually started dating, and Tony could feel the happiness he once felt with and around Loki returning to him. He was starting to feel, dare he say it, happy again. 

Loki, on the other hand…chose a darker path. When he went back to England, he soon had no choice but to take a job from his father, who's line of work was considered quite…unsavoury. (Horrific. Awful. Gruesome.) But Loki's downfall had just begun, and soon he found himself as one of his father's best 'workers'; rising his ways through the ranks, skills growing every day until he knew nothing other than his next assignment. He wasn't happy, per say…but he was content, for the most part.

But now, after years and years of not speaking, of ignoring the never-ending and non-disapating holes in their hearts, Loki and Tony are about to meet again. Only this time?

…it's all even more complicated and fucked up than before. 

~~~~~

The man screamed and screamed and screamed, the dark and tortured sound reverberating around the room. His flesh was melting, mingling with the tears that were dripping steadily down his face. Stark white bones began to show as the skin gave way, glowing and eerie as the flames danced hauntingly around them. His eyes, which shone with agony and terror, were being consumed, waves of bright orange licking around them and burning the eyes sockets, leaving gaping holes around them. He struggled against the restraints that bound him in a solid, wooden chair, thrashing and screaming and sobbing and moaning as the fire began to creep down to his clothes, burning them greedily and lapping at the fresh skin. Long gashes already ran down the man's chest, deep and bloody, and blood continued to drip down onto the floor, a beautiful crimson against the broken pieces of concrete that made it up. Something between a gut-wrenching scream and a broken and bloody sob worked its way down his parched throat, followed by a word that was barely distinguishable.

"Please."

And with that final plea, another man stepped from the shadows, a gun in hand, and shot the man straight between the eyes. His unrecognizable body slumped against the chair, splatters of blood and chunks of burnt and dead skin and brain flying and hitting the wall behind him, painting it as if it were a canvas.

The other man simply sighed despite the brutal sight, his bright, iridescent green eyes flickering upwards at the still burning flames and smoke that was trailing off into the air. The smell of rotting, burning flesh and metallic blood hit his nose, but he paid no mind to it. Striding forward, his long black boots clunking against the floor, he walked up to the man, giving him another one over, before his long lean arm stretched out and grabbed a phone from the pocket of his leather jacket. Pressing a few buttons, he raised the cell in front of him and snapped a few photos, a clicking sound and bright flash following each one.

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

And with one final press of a button, the man sent the pictures to an anonymous number. Below the gruesome photos was a single message, typed out long before the actual murder took place:

It's done.

Because then again, when did he ever fail?

The man sighed once more, black hair falling in waves around his sharp, angled face. His pale, porcelain skin glistened, flickering due to the slowly-diminishing flames, which had now taken the place where the other man once sat. Said dead man was now a pile of ashes and burnt slabs of skin, the putrid stench of the two filling the room.

But this was what his client had wanted, so that was what his client was going to get.

Eyes flickering down back to his phone, he scrolled through his minimal amount of text messages, and pressed on a particular one. It was a short list: cool and clipped and to the point.

~Warehouse on Donavan Street.

~Fire used before death.

~Cut before death.

~Single bullet to the head.

~MAKE HIM SUFFER AND BURN

The last part sent a ripple of unease through the man. Part of his job description was never supposed to be torture, before or after death. But he had soon discovered how much people actually paid to include that. So he had given in. In times like this, what else could you do?

He made every one of his clients give or send him a list before it happened. What they wanted to happen, how they wanted the means of death to be, where it should happen…it was uncommon for someone in his line of business to give so much choice, but the pay was worth it. He had a waiting list for fuck's sake.

And even assassins as skilled as Loki Laufeyson had to make a living somehow.

The flames disappeared entirely, leaving a sweet but rotting and smoky smell. Loki was used to the smell though, so used to it, it was almost as if he was simply breathing in everyday air. The sight didn't sicken him, nor did the scent make him want to retch. Watching the man screaming and in pure and utter agony as the flames burned and disfigured him did not make him flinch. He was just another person that he had been hired to 'take care of'. There were so many that he knew that in a few days, he would forget it ever happened.

To others, it was horrifying, cruel, soulless of him to think these things, but for Loki, it was just another day at work.

He brushed his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, and his phone beeped, the sound thundering against the cool silence of the room. Loki reached down and flipped it open, glancing over at the bright screen, which had been illuminated with a text from his latest client.

The money's been sent.

Loki sighed slightly, annoyance flickering through him, before he typed out a reply.

Of course it has. Also, his wife has just been widowed: I suggest not trying to seduce her until at least after the funeral.

Smirking lightly to himself (even he could have a bit of however-twisted fun sometimes), Loki then dialed a number, stalking forward on light feet and kneeling in front of the spot where his most recent hit once sat. Come to think of it, Loki didn't even know the man's name. He was just told an address, where to 'pick the man up' and what to do with and to him. It was simple, distant, and effective: just the way he liked it to be.

"Hello." A gruff voice eventually picked up on the other end, holding a thinly veiled iciness that over the years had become but a familiar welcome to Loki, who responded swiftly and shortly.

"It's done."

Loki could practically see his smile emerge over the phone, cold and feral at the edges, sending shivers down even the sturdiest of spines. Even Loki, for all of his talents and gifts for reading people, couldn't see through it.

"Well done son." Laufey, the man with the dangerous smile, replied, his voice scratching over the cheap cell phone, further altered by the bad reception that the dark and deserted warehouse gave.

Loki felt a flash of cold fire run through him. I am not your son, he wanted to scream. You never raised me. You never cared for me. You didn't even bother to attempt to hide the beatings you gave me…

But Loki swallowed the rising bile and angry words that threatened to overtake him, as always, and spoke once more, "And when have I ever done a bad one?"

Loki could hear his father's sigh on the other end, used to Loki's sarcasm and attitude, but didn't comment any further, "I need to meet you at the office. Now. Don't be late."

"I wouldn't dream of it," came Loki's short, almost venomous reply, before he promptly hung up the phone.

He could barely see, since the fire was somehow gone and so was the light that came with it, but lightning was starting to flash outside, allowing him glimpses of his surroundings.

Without any further hesitation, he dropped the phone onto the ground, smashing it with his foot a second later. Feeling the screen shatter and the plastic break, he leaned over and picked it up, holding it in front of him as he strode forward, walking behind a large, nearby crate. Tucked behind it was a long, green briefcase, which Loki promptly picked up, carrying it over to where the flames once stood and the man previously sat. Dropping so that his knees were just brushing the smooth, cool concrete, Loki opened the case, eyes skimming the black leather that lined the inside.

Methodically, in a well-practiced manner, Loki reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the gun he used to shoot the man with and placed it in the suitcase. Next, he put the broken cell phone in it, followed by the latex gloves he was wearing during the murder. Lastly, he pulled out a lighter, pressing the side lightly and watching a single flame erupt from the device, glowing and beautiful. He watched it for a second, mesmerized, before dropping it into the suitcase and swiftly shutting it. He could practically feel the heat radiating and pulsing from it, even as he walked away. In his mind, Loki counted, just like he did with the camera flashes.

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

Loki heard the suitcase burst into flames, crackling and loud and decimating. But this time, Loki didn't look back to watch.

He walked calmly right out of the building, relishing in the way the thunderstorm roared around him, blocking out his thoughts and what was occurring behind and around him. The rain drenched him, flooding his ears and soaking his clothes as thunder rolled in the distance. Lightning flashed every few seconds, unbelievably bright, providing enough light for Loki to be able to stay walking on the side road and reach his car: a black SUV, no doubt.

He climbed in it quickly, but in no haste. Starting the car, and eventually pulling away from the building, he looked through one of his side mirrors, and saw bright orange flickering and swirling in one of its windows. A smile flitted across Loki's face, brilliant and lighting up his face.

See, Loki was not a psycho-path, or a sociopath, and though he knew he wasn't a good person, if what he did for a living was any indication, he liked to believe that, in a way he was, or at least had his moments.

No…Loki just liked chaos.

~~~~~

"You want me to do what?!"

Nick Fury could only sigh at the man in front of him, whose deep brown eyes were fixed on his in disbelief. "Look, Stark, I'm not pleased with this either, but the council has requested-"

"Okay, first of all, when have you ever actually listened to the council, and secondly, when have I ever been used or requested for something like this?" Tony Stark's normally charming and smooth voice was punctured with annoyance. Normally, he would be making some smart-ass comments about 'good ol' one-eye' as he often called the S.H.I.E.L.D director, but damn it, he was having a bad day.

First, Dr. Doom had decided that today would be the perfect day to try bombing the south of New York City. Meaning, Tony had to 'suit up' and go into full Iron Man mode. He, along with the other Avengers (a.k.a Earth's Mightiest Heroes) were forced to take on his army of Doombots (and who the hell named their army after themselves? Okay, well, Tony might, but he would call them something way more awesome then what Doom did…) resulting in annoying and painful injuries, ruined armour, and pissed off superheroes who proceeded to, on the way back from the battle, nearly destroy each other (again). Also, tomorrow was Tony and Pepper's five month anniversary, and Tony still didn't know what to do or get her for it- and his team/housemates, especially one Clint Barton (if what he convinced Tony to do for their two month anniversary was any indication), were no help whatsoever. Even Thor, the god of thunder himself, had stated, "Man of Iron, you are very much screwed." And now, Nick Fury had called him in order to persuade him to partake in some mission that was on Tony's list of least important things to do right now.

So yeah…Tony was having a shitty day.

And this interrogation-like thing he was going through wasn't helping in the least.

Fury sighed, his one eye sweeping over the genius/billionaire/playboy/philanthropist, who was attempting to give the Director an intimidating bitch-glare… and not succeeding.

"Look," Fury stated, leaning back in his chair, "I know that you are very busy, saving the world every other day and whatnot, but this is something that is starting to pose as a problem for S.H.I.E.L.D, and the Council is refusing to let it go. And they think you would be valuable in helping us."

Tony sighed, deep brown eyes flickering over to the screen in front of him. A long, slick black table was spread out in between the two men, and a large, almost see-through screen stood glowing right above it. Pictures and reports of murders, some old, some recent, covered the screen. Some were simple and effective: a bullet to the head, the swift slitting of a throat. Others were painstakingly brutal and deliberate, the pictures making even Tony, who was very much adept and knowledgeable on the world's horrors and what people were truly capable of, feel sick. Some people lay in literal pools of blood, their bodies mutilated and mangled, cut beyond recognition, while others were tortured, burns scarring them and tear tracks still visible on their fear-filled faces. The screen showed and was scanning through hundreds of people, all dead, all murdered. Tony's eyes glanced back down at Fury, whose face was grim, also affected by the pictures but a master of hiding it.

"We have evidence that supports that this is the work of a single man." Fury spoke, eyes fixed on Tony.

"Hired?"

"Yes, we believe so. This man," several video clips and pictures flashed across the screen of a long, lean man dressed in pure black walking away from several of the crime scenes. "has been on S.H.I.E.L.D's watch list for a while now, but has been killing more recently and gruesomely. We want him off the streets, and therefore off of our radar as soon as possible. Are you up to it?" he leaned forward as he spoke, hands curling and resting on the table.

"How are you sure all of this is the work of just one person?" Tony asked, wary.

"He's clean: no evidence is ever found at any of the scenes. He is approximately six feet two inches, weight is still being determined. He strikes at places that usually have cameras, but always evades them and keeps them from allowing us to identify him. He's intelligent, clearly highly skilled and most likely trained. He also does…something that sets him apart, something that allows us to gain at least a vague estimate of his body-count."

Tony rolled his eyes slightly at the delay and raised his eyebrows in question, interest spiking.

Fury took out a slim remote from one of his leather pockets, and pressed a few buttons that caused the screen to light up once more with several other videos. Tony stared up at them, watching as they showed the man put the murder weapons and several other items into a briefcase before exiting the scene. Seconds later, they would go up in bright orange and ice blue flames. This occurred in quite a few videos and at several murder scenes.

"We don't always catch him on video, but we always find the remains of the briefcase at every murder scene, along with the murder weapon and other items used in it. All evidence is gone, and the kill is completed. And S.H.I.E.L.D officially cannot track him down. He is, simply put, the perfect assassin. And we want him done." Fury's voice grew hard towards the end. The fact that he wasn't bitching on/insulting Tony was proof enough the he was very serious about this 'problem'.

"How do you think I could help with this?" Tony inquired, eyes still boring onto the screen. It was now displaying what was left of the broken, scattered briefcase of the most recently discovered murder that the man committed, and what it once contained. A list on the side showed that a shattered cell phone, melted latex gloves, and the remains of a gun and lighter were left and found in it.

Fury sighed, clearly unhappy with the decision to have Tony in on the case, but begrudgingly going along with it. "You have access to some of the world's best technology: hell, you own most of it. And SHIELD is, at this point, desperate for help. With your -god help me- intelligence and capability to somehow get people to agree to do whatever it this that you fucking want, we want you to track this man down and shut him down. I don't care how you do it, so long as you don't start a war while doing it. But I want it done."

Tony paused for a moment, before saying cheekily, all snark and charm once more, "…You think I'm intelligent?"

You could practically see Fury's one eye twitch. "Stark, this is no laughing matter. We need your help: I will admit to it." The director suddenly slammed his hands on the table, causing Tony to start slightly, "Will you do it?"

Tony paused again for a while, eyes flicking between Fury and the screen, which was once again scanning through the murder cases and photos, as well as videos and photos of the assassin. Images filled with pain and terror and blood and death overtook it, and Tony felt a distinct burning rising in throat as his mind flashed back to Afghanistan. He knew what those people went through, how they felt. It didn't matter if this man was hired for it or not: he deserved to pay for what he did, and was, doing.

Taking a deep, long breath as he fought back his thoughts, Tony turned to Fury, eyes fixating on the Director as he replied.

"Yeah. I'll do it."


	2. As The Building Crashes Down...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys SO much for the awesome comments and kudos! Really, it means a lot. :) :3 I have up to chapter five already written, so the updates here shall be pretty fast until I run out them to post. ;) But without further a due, please read and enjoy, and leave a comment if you can! :D

"You can open your eyes now." 

"If I do, will it get me killed?" 

"No." 

"Burn me?" 

"No." 

"Eat me?" 

"Nope. And come on, that was one time. And it only tried to eat you…"

"...so you are sure it won't kill me?" 

"Yes, now Lookkiii…" 

"Tonyyyy…" 

"Do I seriously have to bribe you to open your eyes?" 

"…what would you bribe me with?" 

"You're insufferable. And that's coming from me." 

"I feel accomplished." 

"…please open your eyes?" 

"Considering how rare it is to see, well hear, you beg, I shall." 

Loki could practically see Tony shaking his head, but the huff of a laugh that escaped his lips brought a smile to Loki's. Nimble fingers moving behind his head, Loki swiftly untied and removed the blindfold that had been covering his face, jaw dropping at the sight unfolding around him. 

The two of them were sitting right by the edge of a gorgeous, rocky cliff, surrounded by patches of tall, lush green grass and bright gold dandelions. Trees flanked them, sunlight streaming through the branches and casting a beautiful glow. Waves could be heard crashing below the cliff, and they could be seen in the distance, a soft navy blue sprinkled with white foam. Giant fluffy clouds crowded the light blue sky, creating an overall stunning scene around the two. But what really caught Loki's eye was the picnic laid out in front of him, which surrounded a certain teenage billionaire, who was grinning mercilessly at his best friend. 

"Happy birthday Lo!" Tony all but shouted, laughing at Loki's purely stunned expression, the sound melting with the breeze that flowed around them. They were sitting on a classic red-and-white checkered table cloth, and there were arrays of sandwiches and cupcakes (most of them were chocolate with minty green sprinkles, Loki soon realized: his absolute favourite) spread out around them. Tony looked quite proud of himself, shooting Loki another blinding smile before faltering slightly when Loki still didn't say anything.

"I mean, I know it isn't much, but…" 

Loki shut him up by leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Tony tightly. He could feel his voice shaking with emotion (nobody had ever done anything like this for him before, so he felt like he had a right to feel emotional, okay?) as he whispered into Tony's shoulder. "It's perfect. Honestly." 

He drew back, a beautiful smile playing on his lips as he sat back down. His leg brushed at the side of the square, wooden picnic basket, causing something to fall off of the handle and drop with a soft clink onto the ground. Loki picked it up, curiosity shining in his emerald eyes. "What's this?" 

A bracelet, he soon realized. It was made up of a shining gold chain that laced with small but sparkling jade gems. Larger gems and glass beads that were coloured almost every shade of green and red formed a single letter in the middle of it; 'L'. The letter was framed by what appeared to be diamonds (knowing Tony, it most likely was) that formed a vine-like pattern and highlighted the range of alluring colours. 

Loki stared at it for a few moments, stunned speechless once more, when suddenly Tony's swearing brought him out of his reverie. 

"God fuckin damn it!" Tony hissed under his breath, face turning as red as the gems on the bracelet. "You were not supposed to find that yet! I had this whole speech planned out for when I was going to give it to you and fuck now I don't remember it and-" He was getting more flustered and embarrassed with every passing second, flailing his hands in the air in frustration and exasperation. 

So, in order to shut him up again, Loki kissed him. 

The two of them kissing was no monumental thing though: it was already established that they had a very close and… interesting relationship. People had seen them kiss before, and now thought nothing of it (even though they sigh in exasperation when they see it, groan about how stupid it is that they aren't together yet, and proceed to tease the crap out of them afterword). But there was something different about this one though…it somehow meant more. So maybe it was, in a way, monumental…not that either of them would ever admit it. 

When they parted, foreheads pressing together almost instantly, Tony looked more than slightly dazed, but pleased, and Loki had yet another blinding smile on his lips. "I don't need a speech Anthony. I love it either way. But please tell me you didn't spend as much as I think you did on it-" 

"You're worth it," Tony interrupted, protesting with a smile/smirk on his face, "And besides: who else would I spend it on? JARVIS is already spoiled enough. In fact, I just installed him with a British accent. He's never been more pleased. I think I'll keep it, actually…" 

Loki simply shook his head, the smile still playing on his lips, and he pulled back slightly, settling back onto the table cloth and breathing in the fresh air. Carefully, he slipped the bracelet on, admiring how it shimmered in the sun and how the cool metal felt against his skin. He looked back up at Tony, who was watching him with undisguised affection and warmth shining in his chocolate brown eyes. Loki returned the gaze unabashedly, feeling, undeniably and for one of the few times in his life, completely and utterly happy. 

A smirk crossed Tony' face, feeling just as Loki did, and he reached behind his back and seemingly out of nowhere pulled out a bottle of sparkling wine. 

"I took it from Howard while he was off doing god knows what, and before you protest-" he added, reading Loki's thoughts before he even stated them, " you have to live a little Loki! Or at least…do it for me" He winked at that last part as he poured the two a glass each. Soon, one of them was slipped into Loki's hand, who couldn't bring himself to protest and refuse Tony's request. Tony soon raised his glass, giving Loki a pointed look to do so himself. Giving him a long-suffering sigh, Loki followed suit, ignoring the grin that was playing on his lips and the smirk playing on the genius's. 

"Happy birthday." Tony spoke, sincere even as he met Loki's eyes. 

"Happy birthday," Loki echoed. 

And as their glasses clunked together and their rarely heard laughs rang throughout the nature around them…it actually was.

~~~

By the time Loki finally reached a motel, a storm was in full-force.

The motel itself was run-down, made up of cracked, bleak beige walls and its name displayed by a flickering red neon sign that appeared to be on the verge of collapsing. Loki parked his car in the equally worn-out parking lot and was out of his SUV, with his bag, and in the building within seconds. Pulling his wet, raven hair back in his slick hands and tying it up using a thin elastic, he shut the door behind him and walked straight up to the counter, where a very young, bored-looking man was flipping idly through a magazine. Loki slid a few bills onto the marble top, eyes boring into the others, impatient.

Eventually, Loki was given the keys to one of the nicer rooms, or so he was told, but the time it took the worker to do so made Loki consider setting the motel on fire (you see, with most people, this statement would be considered an exaggeration, used simply to express their frustration… for Loki it was not). Sighing loudly and glaring unnervingly at the worker as he left, Loki strode down the hall and briskly opened and entered his room…which, with its simple and half-broken furniture and smashed television, not to mention its awful bathroom, only made Loki want to set the place on fire more.

Cursing his luck, he fell onto the bed, ignoring the way it lurched under him, and dropped his bag beside him, his coat following soon after. Rain and hail pelted against his window, crackling and loud. Loki fought the urge to groan, and instead settled for leaning against the back of the bed, an overflowing pillow scrunched between the two.

Ohh well. He was used to these sort of motels and places anyway.

Sighing, Loki picked up a remote from the bedside table, flippantly pressing a few buttons and watching the TV screen illuminate in front of him. The quality and sound emitting from it was less than satisfactory, but Loki ignored the obvious facts and started skimming through the channels.

Documentary…George Clooney movie…another George Clooney movie….finally Loki settled on watching the news. Idly reaching into his bag, he pulled out several files and lay them on his lap, stretching his legs out and fighting back a yawn. He didn't realize that the plane ride from London and the drive to New York City would take as long as it did, and damn was he ever tired. Annoyance flickered through the master-assassin, but as his eyes swept over the files still strewn out in front of him…he knew it would be worth it.

There were 5 hits. 5 people he needed to kill, all located in New York. He needed to stab two of them in the neck, slit one's throat, shoot one and hang the last. Loki wasn't even certain who hired him, but the man was offering a hell of a lot of money for a few simple kills: who was he to refuse over a million dollars?

The men were all wealthy and successful- two lawyers, one business associate and a rising politician- so Loki knew that he would have to watch them for a while before making his move; learn their routines, where they live, when the best time to intercept would be. Whenever he was hired to kill people like them, whose deaths would actually be noticed, he always waited a while and watched them, and took extra care to make sure he could never be tied to the crimes or tracked down because of them.

Loki hadn't been caught yet, and he sure as hell didn't plan on it anytime soon.

The files contained a ton of information and several pictures on every one of his hits, and Loki scanned through them, committing them to memory (he'd have to burn them soon, of course. No evidence could, or was, ever left behind). He wondered vaguely where Laufey managed to get all of this information. But then again, his lousy excuse for a father, and boss for that matter, never really did tell him that much. Although, being the leader of a secret organization of assassins could probably get you a lot of information if you knew where to look. And Laufey always did.

As he read the notes and pondered over this, he faintly listened to the droning of the TV anchor in the background, who was discussing recent protests about politics or something else Loki really didn't have the time nor need to care about or really follow.

"…and in other news, video footage and pictures of the Avengers fighting off yet another one of the world's threats have been released. They are available to be viewed on our website. This clip in particular, however, has already caught the attention of millions."

A fuzzy, lopsided video appeared on the screen, and looked to be taken by a phone that was dropped and left behind, showing a horrific scene. Tall, proud skyscrapers and buildings stood bravely against the flames that were rapidly devouring and burning it, leaving behind heaps of rocks and broken, melted, shattered glass. The street had a giant, gaping crack running though it and ruined, barely-recognizable cars jutting out from their sides and all around. It was like a… battlefield.

Actually, it was. This was only proven when a loud, piercing scream suddenly erupted, and a red-and-gold metal figure landed heavily on the ground.

Iron Man.

A bus skidded onto the screen, its wheels whirling furiously as it arched forward, as if beckoned by the chaos. Almost instantly, Iron Man had his hands out in front of the bus and was pushing it backwards, gently setting it onto the road once more before turning away, arms still raised and repulsors firing at oncoming attackers. The bus, which had black burn marks and visible scratches running along its sides, hurriedly skidded backwards and out of sight while the superhero stayed in the shot, still fighting off unseen enemies…

When suddenly a nearby skyscraper collapsed and fell on top of him, swallowing up the phone seconds later.

Loki, who had been watching with gritted teeth and hand poised over the off button on the remote, suddenly froze. He felt an uncontrollable wave of white-hot panic wash over him, hating how instant and strong his reaction was. And still hating as his body slumped against the bed once more, as the TV announcer's next words were spoken in that annoyingly mousy way of theirs.

"We are luckily able to report that Tony Stark, also widely known as Iron Man, is okay and has been checked out of the hospital with minor injuries. The damage done to his suit, however is, as he has stated: 'severe but manageable, and annoying as *beep* to deal with'. Thanks to him and the Avengers, the city was protected and saved once more. Despite the damage done, it too shall recover and-"

Loki shut off the TV with the violent click of a button, clenching his hands furiously as he tried to fight the wave of dizziness that had overcome him.

This was why Loki hated…well, a lot of stuff. Newspapers, watching TV, going on the computer...everywhere you looked there was 'Iron Man' this and 'Avengers' that and Loki forced to remember everything and then see stupid fucking Anthony risking his life over and over again…he hated it.

But the thing he hated the most?

How terrified and awful seeing his ex-best friend in danger made him, even though he hated the man (or at least, that's what he has been telling himself for years now). He loathed the feel of bile and fear that threatened to crawl up his throat when he saw Tony in videos and situations like that, because despite everything that happened between the two of them, all of the grief and destruction they ended up causing each other…Loki just couldn't forget everything that once happened. The feeling of falling, but for once in a good way, and letting himself actually be: Tony had caused that, and though it never did end well, the memories were impossible to forget.

(Loki wouldn't ever admit this even on the pain of death, but when Tony was kidnapped and presumed dead while in Afghanistan, Loki committed a record number of assassinations and promptly blew up his first building while sobbing in a furious, grief-induced haze.)

Taking deep, calming breaths, Loki glanced back down at the files, which suddenly seemed annoying and meaningless. Stacking them swiftly into a pile and shoving them back in his bag, he stood up, all long limbs and lean legs, and stretched slightly. He wished he brought the rest of his luggage inside with him, but since he never really stayed in any motel, or place for that matter, very long, he didn't think it was worth it. But at least he packed another outfit in the bag he had with him now. It was supposed to be for the morning, but screw it.

Reaching down once more, he pulled out and changed into a pair of black skinny jeans and a dark low-cut t-shirt, and wrapped a shimmering, jade-green scarf around his pale neck. Grabbing his leather jacket and shaking it slightly in order to dry it, he slipped it on and tightened the elastic that was holding his hair at bay. Grabbing his bag once more, he left the accursed motel room without a second glance.

He could find (and afford to) a new motel later.

But right now he wanted these goddamn thoughts and him out of his head, so he decided that maybe tonight he could afford to let go a bit and do something for himself. So, throwing the idiotic motel worker on last glare on his way out, he soon climbed back into his car and, the piercing howl of the icy wind flooding his ears, started to head over to New York City.

...and it didn't just have to do with him wanting a drink.

~~~

Tony's eyes fluttered shut as he leaned forward, hands limply cupping the icy water that was streaming steadily from the tap. He sighed as he brought his hands to his face and let the cool liquid run over it, breathing slightly shakily.

He was acting like an idiot.

Pepper was out there, lovely and gorgeous as always, waiting patiently for him, her boyfriend, at their reserved table at this somewhat-fancy restaurant Tony had hastily decided they should spend and celebrate their anniversary in. After this, they would go for a nice walk through Central Park. It was all very simple, very classic, very not-Tony-like. And Pepper had been thrilled at the thought of such a quiet and romantic evening…as opposed to their everyday, hectic lives. Truth be told, Tony too was pleased at the thought of such a carefree, simple night, where he didn't have to worry about anything and could just enjoy himself with the woman he cared about more than basically anyone else.

And instead he was here, hiding out in the washroom.

And he just couldn't understand why.

He turned the tap off, sighing as he saw his reflection in the mirror. His once slicked-back dark brown hair was starting to act up again, struggling to go back to its normally ragged, beautifully messy state. His eyes, which normally shone a bright, teasing brown, seemed dull, lacking off their usual life and light, and bleak grey bags stood out against his ashen-looking skin. A small, light red cut grazed his right cheek from a recent battle, followed by a longer one by his left temple. He was wearing a black-and-white suit, and he noticed that because he had been twirling the end of it so much the tie was starting to loosen and unravel. He quickly unwound the tie from around his neck, resting it against the sink's side and leaning forward heavily.

He had spent most of last night looking through the many murder cases, videos and pictures that this assassin Fury had somehow talked him into tracking down had committed and were involved in. It stunned Tony that one man was capable of causing all of that horror and pain and death, and could simply go around killing people for a living with no regrets or remorse…and it also meant that Tony had to spend hours digging through all of the crap he had caused. And yet, Tony still couldn't find anything that lead him to the man's identity. JARVIS was in the process of, using the pictures of the blurry figure committing the murders, collecting the weight, size and height of the man (SHIELD said that they would do that and give him the answers to those questions, but Tony preferred to do his own investigating, thank you very much). And when Tony was finally able to go to sleep…the nightmares had begun.

People always thought that 'superheros' were just that: amazing, emotionally indestructible, super people who simply saw every battle as yet another one done. They didn't see the aftermath; the flashbacks, the injuries, the anger and fear that had coursed violently through their veins,all crashing down on them…they all had their demons, their hauntings, and as for Tony? Well, he had a lot of them.

Last night, it had been the building crashing down on him-both figuratively and literally. He'd seen how many people watched that video, hell, he'd seen it on the news. Everyone was watching his fall, and though thrilled that he was okay, how was he? They didn't see him in his suit at the time, his horrified and soon terrified expression as the building slammed down on him, or hear his words yelled as he was trapped, being crushed by its remnants. His suit had taken most of the blow, but he couldn't deny the pure and utter terror that had gripped him, burning and all-consuming. His nightmare started with the building, and moved onto Obie suddenly rising from the rubble, warm and welcoming eyes sweeping across Tony's frozen and immobile face, before his skin started peeling off and revealed a bleeding skull with its mouth wide open in screams identical to those on the bus. Before Tony himself could scream, the sound choking him, the scene shifted. Suddenly, he was everywhere and taking part in everything; he was in every battle, felt every jolt of pain, saw every person die, saw everyone's faces flash before his eyes…and then Loki had appeared.

Tony's eyes flew open, his previous, thoughts of his dream and oh so screwed up life immediately dissipating at the thought of the man.

…even though Loki was probably a huge reason as to why he was so screwed up in the first place.

Loki, to Tony, was… everywhere. When Tony was trapped in that cave in Afghanistan, he would wake up screaming from nightmares where Loki was there with him, that Loki was getting shot and dying in Tony's arms. When he came back to civilization, he couldn't help but feel a giant, aching pain when he never heard from or saw Loki (did he not care that he was actually alive?) and when he became Iron Man and faced down and fought villain after villain, he could almost see Loki's face, his annoyingly gorgeous face, watching him. After…ithad all happened, he felt himself falling into some sort of all-seeing abyss, unable to stop it from swallowing him whole. But then he officially inherited Stark Industries, and met Rhodey and Happy...and Pepper.

Pepper had helped him the most. She helped him move on and fill the giant gaping hole Loki had left. And though she still wasn't Loki, he felt happy with her, more complete. He eventually became part of the Avengers, and despite going through a hell of a lot of crap to get there, Stark Tower became Avengers Tower, and they all moved in and formed one giant, more-than-slightly-screwed-up family.

But there was always something missing from Tony's life, and that was Loki.

(Who despite searching endlessly through record after record, he could never find. The man had practically disappeared from the face of the earth, and it pissed off and scared Tony to absolutely no end.)

…wait, when did hiding out in the bathroom turn into stand there and think about everything fucked up about Tony and his life?

He soon put the tie back on, and fixed up his hair as best he could. Wiping his face dry of any leftover traces of water and plastering his signature cheeky grin, he strode out of the washroom, blocking out his previous thoughts. He felt his grin lift slightly at the sight of Pepper, who smiled at the sight of him walking over to her. She really did look beautiful in her light turquoise, shimmering dress and with her auburn hair tied back. Tony soon slide back into his seat, cursing himself for the pang of unexplained melancholy that hit him.

"Miss me?" He asked innocently, hand instantly reaching for the glass of red wine that was inches away from the white china plate that their appetizers had on. He was aware of the wide-eyed looks and stares the two were getting: it isn't every day that you see the world-famous couple of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts casually dining at a New York City restaurant.

"Only because you're paying." Pepper quipped back, grinning as she too took a sip of wine.

Tony suddenly raised his glass, staring at his girlfriend with a serious look on his face, "Happy anniversary Pep," he stated (in another time, it was like saying 'happy birthday' to Loki-same voice and tone of sincerity and everything) when suddenly something, or someone caught his eye.

He vaguely heard Pepper reply, and felt their glass clink, the motion sending light vibrations down his arm. But Tony's eyes were fixated on the person behind her, his breath jamming in his throat and heart coming to a rapid stop at the sight. It couldn't be…

Suddenly, the man looked up from the menu his eyes were previously fixed on.

Suddenly, a pair of intoxicating green eyes met Tony's deep brown ones.

Eyes that Tony knew better than anyone else's.

Loki…


	3. Surprise Sightings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, thank you guys SO much for your comments and support for the fic! Really, it means a lot. :D :3 And secondly, just to let you guys know, at the beginning of each chapter there will be a flashback to a moment from Tony and Loki's past, ones that will eventually start to put together certain puzzle pieces for the readers as well. So yes, they do actually have a purpose. ;) But anyways, without further a due, please enjoy the latest chapter and leave a comment on what you thought if you can! :D

"Eventually you are going to have to open that door!" Tony's voice, stubborn and unyielding, floated through the walls, causing Loki to look up.

"Not likely!" He called back, voice scratching and soon breaking into a hacking cough. Fighting back a groan, he leaned into his bed, grabbing another tissue with achy, protesting bones. His throat was raw and throbbing, and his head was pounding dully in his skull.

Loki hated being sick.

…And Tony knew this. Which is why the stubborn bastard had been banging on his door for the past half hour and refusing to leave. Loki was even pretty sure he had set up some sort of camp outside his dorm room. Loki sighed again.

"Tony, just go to class! I'm fine!" he cried out in exasperation. He loved the genius billionaire, he really did…but it was times like these that he just wanted to strangle him. A lot.

"Also not likely!" He called out cheerfully, before adding, "And please, when have I ever actually willingly gone to class? At least you are here to keep me company this time…if you would just open the goddamn door!" He emphasized the last part.

Loki looked between the door and where Tony's voice was coming from, and around his room. It was impeccable as always: his paintings and other artwork he enjoyed were scattered neatly around and on the pale beige walls, adding a certain colour and joy to the otherwise plain room. He had a TV that was placed on a small table by the room's window, which held a gorgeous view of the university's campus, and a radio was beside it. His bookshelf was filled to the brim with textbooks, literature novels and sketch books, while the solid, wooden desk beside it was stacked with his art tools: dozens of canvas, which ranged in size, and container after container of paint brushes, coloured pencils and charcoal. Tony always teased him about how easy it was to tell what Loki loved and was studying, but Loki had caught him admiring his paintings more than once…which is why with his next words, Loki hoped he wouldn't destroy them, accidentally or not.

"For the love of - ugh fine." Dragging himself to his feet with an annoyed and yet another ever-suffering sigh, he walked over unsteadily to the door, yanking it open with a glare.

Tony was standing there with a cheerful grin on his face, his arms filled with things that Loki couldn't seem to place through his bleary eyes. "Morning sunshine!" Tony greeted him, smirking as he ignored Loki's deadly expression and pushed himself into the room. "And how are we this fine morning?" Tony dropped the things he was holding on the floor nearby Loki's bed, and strode over and opened the pale gold curtains, causing blinding sunlight to flood the room.

Loki groaned again, walking over and collapsing onto his bed. "I hate you." He spoke through gritted teeth and a mouthful of pillow.

"I know." Tony replied, voice sickeningly sweet, before continuing, "Now. I dropped by your classes and spoke to your teachers and told them I gave you mono-"

"-Excuse me?!-" Loki shot up from his bed.

Tony held up his hands defensively "-kidding, kidding. But anyways, they told me to give you all of this crap-a.k.a work- to do while you're out of it."

Loki deflated and rubbed his hands over his face, "Well, thank you, I suppose." He coughed slightly, but he couldn't help but feel a little surprised that Tony did that for him, before something occurred to him.

"What did they say about your less than stellar attendance to your classes? I've heard it is legendary among teachers…"

Tony winked cheekily, "Don't worry about me, sweetcheeks. Plus…I persuaded them to change the subject."

"Blackmail is never the answer, Anthony."

"Who said I blackmailed them?"

"…"

"…JARVIS made me do it."

"I bet."

Tony beamed at him and Loki sighed in exasperation, pretending not to notice the smile tilting on his own lips as he stretched back on the bed, snuggling deeper into the warm cotton. The room soon fell into a comfortable silence.

Until he felt something, or someone, drop beside him on his bed.

Loki cracked one eye open.

"…what are doing?"

"Making myself comfortable, of course." Loki jerked upwards when he felt an arm wrap around his waist and Tony's hot breath, smelling of caramel coffee, tickle his ear.

"Tony, I'm sick," He snapped, trying to push the laughing billionaire away from him, but to no avail.

"I've been told that I'm pretty sick too…" he purred, grip tightening, and Loki shot him a look.

"…I don't even know how to comment on that."

"Well, you love me anyways. Mostly because I brought you some soup."

He suddenly reached down and pulled out a bag that Loki hadn't even realized he had been holding previously, handing it to Loki with an expectant look as he finally released his hold on the art student.

Loki soon took out a bowl of steaming chicken noodle soup, which Tony had clearly gotten from a nearby café, and a spoon. He shot Tony a small but grateful smile. "Thank you, but you know you don't have to take care of me…"

Tony rolled his eyes. "What else am I supposed to do?" he pointed out, "Now eat or so help me I will destroy your school crap where it lays." He pointed threateningly at the textbooks and papers that were strewn across the thin, sand-coloured carpet. Both Loki and Tony were now sitting cross-legged on Loki's bed, and Loki rolled his eyes before opening the container, breathing in the sweet steam and slowly taking a sip of the broth, feeling Tony's eyes on him the whole time. He moans contently as it slid down his throat, soothing it.

"...if I'd known that giving you soup would make you make such sexy noises, I would have done it way before now."

At this, Loki choked on the soup, causing him to start coughing harshly…and the soup to spill forward. Onto Tony' lap.

(Weeks later, they're still arguing about whether 'Tony screamed' or 'cried out in surprise and in a manly fashion'. Loki maintains he screamed.)

"Sorry!" Loki managed to gasp between coughs as the other man leaped around the room, swearing loudly and grabbing one of Loki's blankets, trying to wipe the scalding soup from his pants.

"It's okay, not your fault…" He said through gritted teeth. Soon after, after Loki stops coughing and/or choking and Tony quits swearing and the pain subsides, they both stare at each other and burst out laughing.

(This of course, soon leads to Loki coughing again, but the two are so caught up in the moment that they keep on laughing madly anyways.)

Eventually, they calm down, and Tony turns to Loki with a serious look on his face. "No more soup."

"No more soup." Loki agrees, trying not to giggle.

"How about I go pick up some tea or something?" Tony offered, "After I, you know, change my pants." He gestured at his damp jeans with disdain.

Loki nods thankfully, a smirk twisting on his lips despite himself. "Will you be alright?" He asked, voice thick and as sweet as honey.

Tony seemed to consider this as he headed towards the door. "Without you, darling? That is a tough one…maybe you can come and help me?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing Loki to shake his head, laughing again but this time not being interrupted by a cough.

"You may go now." Loki threw a pillow at Tony's head as he spoke, still high off of sickness and laughter (or both).

Tony smirked again as he reached the door, "Your wish is my command." He spoke lightly, before pausing and casually adding with twinkling eyes, "Ohhh, and I forgot to mention… nice shirt."

Loki looked down and realized he was wearing his favorite, never-to-be-seen-by-anyway-but-himself Doctor Who t-shirt.

"…shut up Anthony."

~~~

Tony's wine glass, once clutched oh so tightly in his unsteady hand, slipped from his grip and hit the table with a resounding shatter.

Because for Tony, it was like his world had suddenly stopped, in all its entirety and glory.

Because there he was.

A dim part of him recognized Loki before he could even properly register it. He did look different though: his angled cheekbones looked sharper than before, prominent against his still-pale skin, which shone even in the restaurant's pale lighting. His hair was longer, a striking and spiky raven-black that reached down to his lean shoulders. His smooth, faintly pale lips were curved slightly, almost as if they were used to being in some sort of permanent scowl. But his eyes were still the same, only this time…they looked darker. More guarded. But they were still that lovely, deep green that had captivated him from day one…the ones that had haunted Tony for years.

He knew instantly that Loki recognized him, too. How could he not? Tony was constantly on and in the news, and Loki had to have seen him somewhere…or wherever the hell he had been.

It was that thought that snapped him back to reality. Loki was here. In New York. After years and years of dropping off the radar, being completely and utterly gone, as if he had performed some magic voo-doo crap and managed to disappear off of the face of the earth…he was back. Tony didn't know how, or where, but he was.

Pepper said something to him, sounding concerned, and he felt her hand (which suddenly felt as if it had been doused in ice) brush his own. But he still didn't look at her, and hadn't even realized he was standing until now, Loki's name bubbling disbelievingly in his throat.

Loki was staring at him too, looking as stunned as Tony felt. He had been standing at the front beside a short, uniformed waiter who was no doubt about to lead him to a seat at the now-fading-into-the-background restaurant. But instead of standing up, about to call his name as Tony was, his face drained of whatever colour they previously had, pale and stricken. Instead of continuing to look stunned, his eyes shone with a horror that made Tony's mouth run dry. And before the genius/billionaire/playboy/philanthropist (who was so rarely speechless and caught off guard except now he felt like he could barely breath) could even open his mouth or react…Loki had taken off out of the restaurant, the door closing with a thud that resonated in ears behind him.

Once again, Tony was paralyzed. Until a sudden thought ran through his head: he's running again.

Maybe for good this time.

No.

So naturally, ignoring Pepper and her calling after him (despite how cold-hearted that was, considering it was their fucking anniversary after all), Tony shot out of the restaurant and went after Loki. He could hear and see cameras flashing around him, no doubt fixated on him, but with his heart pounding and leaping in his throat, he couldn't bring himself to care.

You aren't running away from me this time, you bastard. (It was the only thought that, even at that time, that kept running through his head.)  
~~~

Loki knew coming to the restaurant was a mistake.

It was expensive, righteously so, too fancy and the food was probably super, sickeningly rich compared to what he was used to (the cheap fast food restaurants and convenience stores that riddled the world no matter wherever he ended up).

But he had ended up driving around New York City's downtown area for a while, trying to clear his head of thoughts (Tony) and stupid indiscretions (also Tony), and this was the closest place to where he had gotten tired and angrily parked his car. He had forgotten how beautiful New York City was, with its bright, multi-coloured lights that appeared at every turn, the murky violet-pink sky that dotted the background, and the cool, smooth water that surrounded it. It was colourful, filled with people with hopes and dreams and fears and life.

(Something Loki was a bit of a master of destroying.)

So all in all, he knew that even just being there, where people might even recognize him, was stupid, and a potentially giant mistake. But he was also a master of mistakes, so why the hell not?

…but then he fully realized how badly he screwed up when he saw Tony Stark sitting there at a table, staring with wide, annoyingly deep brown and piercing eyes right at him.

Oh shit.

The waiter beside him, who had been about to lead him to his own table, stopped and turned to look at him, confused and voice concerned. "Sir?"

Loki watched, too shocked to move, as Tony stood up, lips (the stupid, stupid lips that were so familiar to Loki it hurt) moving lightly, and he knew instantly that Tony knew it was him. He could feel himself grow pale at this, heart thudding dangerously and a growing horror rising.

No, no, no, no, no, he can't, not now, not-

So Loki did what he always did.

He ran.

Arms tightening around the coat he had just taken off, he whirled around and quickly shoved the thick glass doors open, pushing past people as he took off down the street. He could hear annoyed shouts sounding behind him, but in his more-than-slightly panicked state he barely noticed.

He had spent years without running into anyone he knew from his past, without anyone recognizing him. He had fully intended to keep it that way, because if he didn't? He would have to talk and explain to them where he had been, and everything was too complicated and so…different. There was no going back, but of course, he saw the one person he told himself he could never see again.

Tony.

Double shit.

Loki soon stopped running, breaking into a swift walk and melding into the crowd, arms wrapped around his stomach to keep that ill feeling from taking its toll.

Tony looked well. His face was clean-shaven; the light shadow of scruff he always used to wear gone, and his hair was neatly styled and shorter. He had been wearing a dark grey suit, with a navy blue tie that looked uncomfortably tight around his neck. He skin looked tanned, and his eyes still held that intensity and brightness that they always did. Loki had seen him countless times in tabloids and newspapers, but actually seeing him for the first time in so many years made a shiver run down his spine.

Because they hadn't exactly ended on the best terms, now had they?

…and also Pepper, his girlfriend, was there. Loki may not have fully seen her, but he recognized the long, fiery red hair that ran down her lean back, which was highlighted with an expensive, silk turquoise dress. Loki had seen her wearing it on many magazine covers, whether she was with Tony or not (and she usually was, which was why Loki never actually bought or read magazines anymore…not that he would ever admit that.)

Another thing Loki would deny until his dying breath was that he could feel his heart clench slightly when he saw them, so clearly on a date. In love. Together. Almost like he and Tony once were…

Then he thought of blood and screaming and death and the people he killed and felt those stupid, moronic emotions dissipate (but not entirely).

Loki realized he had no idea where he was going, but continued walking anyway. When all of a sudden he heard a voice from behind him call his name.

"Loki!"

Feeling his heart constrict at the desperation in Tony's voice, Loki pushed forward, breaking into a run again despite the crowds, hearing the voice grow dimmer and dimmer. He soon passed by an alley, and without an ounce of hesitation turned down it.

It was worn-down, with broken walls riddled with graffiti and shattered windows lined with wooden boards. Garbage was scattered all around, plentiful and its putrid smell undeniable, despite the large amount of garbage cans that also lined the place. Smoke drifted through the air, drifting and leaving a bitter taste in Loki's mouth as he stepped warily forward, eyes glancing for a way out without having to go back the way he came.

…it was when the black-hooded men started stepping out from around him that Loki realized how badly he screwed up again.

"Well, well, what have we here." One of the men spoke, and Loki's eyes widened when he realized he, along with the others flanking him, were twirling guns and knives in their gloved hands. He could hear footsteps crunching behind him, and realized he was surrounded.

Just his luck.

"I don't want any trouble." Loki spoke, voice wary and containing an edge.

"Oh really now?" The lead man drawled, "Well, sadly, we have been waiting for some moron to come along all night. So, boys…go for it."

They all started to move in on Loki, who sighed, irritated. I'm the moron?

When the first one swung his arm in a punch, Loki reacted.

Whirling around, he grabbed the man's wrist and twisted it, hearing a bone snap and him let out a shrill scream. Grabbing the gun from his now-limp hand, Loki slammed the handle against his skull, and kicked him expertly into the man standing there in shock beside him. The two went sprawling, falling and sliding against the gravel with harsh thuds.

Turning around, Loki raised the gun at the others, who despite the black hoods covering half of their faces were clearly stunned. "Who's next?" the assassin asked.

They all lunged at him this time, weapons raised. One slashed a knife at Loki, who simply ducked it and kicked the man square in the chest, sending him into a garbage can. Another man cocked his gun at Loki and was about to pull the trigger, when Loki raised his own weapon and shot him straight in the shoulder, causing him and his weapon to fall with a loud yell of pain. Loki felt a strong arm wrap around him, attempting to restrain him, and Loki threw back his head, feeling satisfied as he heard the man cry out, even though his own head hurt now too, before twisting around and knocking him out with a few swift blows to the head.

Loki could hear the remaining men yelling, shocked and fearful, and dived to the side and behind a nearby garbage can when bullets started to be fired beside and around him, wild and aimless.

These people have no idea what they're doing, Loki realized as they continued to shoot at him. Sighing in annoyance, and too tired to do much else, he stood up from behind the garbage can, flinging it at the nearest person, causing him to be slammed them into a wall, and quickly taking down the remaining two by grabbing their guns and twisting them out of their frozen grips, slamming them into each other's faces with dull thuds and causing them to drop to the ground like stones.

Way to easy, he thought as he looked around, surveying the damage. The men, foolish and misguided gang members, Loki supposed, were all splayed out on the ground, and their weapons were scattered around the alley. He slipped the gun he was holding into his boot, and grabbed any other weapons he had touched and could be tied to, putting them into the men's hands and curling their cold fingers tightly around them. One of the men groaned, eyes flickering open lightly, so Loki promptly kicked his across the face, causing it to snap to the side and for him to fall silent once more. Suddenly, he realized that one of them was missing. Peering around and assessing their sizes, he realized it was the leader. Probably ran, the coward…

"…Loki?"

He froze, dread seeping through his bones at the voice, which had lost its desperation, and now just sounded…absolutely stunned. Slowly turning around, knowing there was no other way out of the alley and with his heart pounding furiously, Loki turned to see Tony standing there, jaw hanging open and shock shining in his eyes. Loki swallowed, feeling vaguely sick once more, and his throat, still dry from fighting, screamed at the notion.

Mind raking for ways to get out of this and away from Tony and his annoyingly searching and perceptive eyes, Loki suddenly heard something rustle and sound behind him. But before he could react, he was suddenly struck from behind, a sharp object slamming into his skull and causing Tony to almost instantly blur. Blinding white dots appeared before his eyes, and before Loki could say or do anything else his vision was plunged into total darkness.

~~~

Tony's jaw continued to hang open unattractively as he watched his ex-best friend crumple to the ground, struck with the piece of a pipe from behind. Tony opened his mouth, no doubt about to react and/or do something stupid, but the man had already barreled by him and taken off down the street, much like Loki had before.

Loki.

Tony was racing towards the man before he even knew it. Kneeling in front of him, he gently flipped Loki over with shaky hands, and lifted his head up slightly (all while trying not to focus on Loki's face, which was as flawless as ever). He soon felt a clean cut on the back of the other man's head, more long than deep, and wet from blood. When Tony brought his hand away, it was stained with it. Tony took off the tie he was wearing, and lightly pressed it to the wound.

What the hell happened here?

Tony hadn't hesitated to chase Loki through downtown New York, which was saying something because there were cameras and people everywhere, and he wasn't exactly an inconspicuous person. Luckily, he had managed to very quickly convince some hobo to give him a hat to cover his face, although he had almost managed to blow his cover by yelling Loki's name on the streets. But luckily no one realized it was him because he had run away so fast, and it is also a well-known fact that Tony Stark did not do cowboy hats, especially in public. But when he had almost given up, and walked by that alley, only to see Loki surrounded by a bunch of people, unmoving and some even appearing to be armed…Tony was just a little confused and a little stunned. It didn't help that his heart seemed to stop when Loki got knocked out by some black-hooded douchebag with a pipe.

Sighing, Tony looked around again, observing the rows of unconscious men. They appeared to be holding their weapons, even in their current state…had they been fighting and Loki had walked in on them? It was possible, but then why wasn't Loki calling the police when Tony found him? Something about this was off. And there was also that lingering question…where the absolute hell had Loki been? And why was he back? And why did he run away like that when he saw Tony? (Okay, maybe he knew the answer to that, but he was an expert at being in denial when something hurt and bothered him.)

Plus, Tony was a scientist. And scientists were pretty damn persistent when it came to getting answers.

So Tony decided in that instant to make a most likely stupid decision, but one that may hopefully end well and pay off in the end. There's nothing wrong with hoping for the best, after all.

Reaching into his suit's pocket, he took out his cell phone and scrolled through his contacts until he came across a familiar face and number.

Watching Loki as the phone rang, Tony wondered what the fuck is going to come of this, and how much trouble this is going to land him in.

"Hey, Happy? Yeah, I need you to pick me up. Preferably not in the limo. And before you ask…Pepper isn't with me. I know we were having dinner, but…shit happens. Yeah. Where? Ummmm…I'll get back to you on that. Also, bring a first aid kit. No no, I'm fine, but I still need it. Why? Well, it is kinda a really long story…"


	4. Watch Me Crawl Through Your Heart

Loki didn't really know what to expect when he opened the front door. 

He had been blaring music from his room, some weird alternative stuff with lyrics that Loki, for some reason, felt he could spend hours analyzing and taking apart, and attempting to do some science homework. But, since he really hated science, he wasn't really getting anywhere, and was just leaning against his bed on his green and gold (he admits that he had a fetish for the colours) carpet, wishing he wasn't too lazy to get up and make himself some food. 

So when the doorbell rang, he groaned and reached over to shut off his music, stretching as he slowly stood up. "I'm coming!" He yelled, trying not to sound as irritated and tired as he really felt, and started to make his way to the front door. 

Loki's mind ran through the options of people it could be. His father, as always, was away on 'business' (Loki wasn't even fully sure what Laufey did for a living, let alone where he went on these trips) and none of his friends or fellow workers ever visited the house, so it didn't have to do with his father. Loki wasn't exactly the most social person himself, and didn't know anyone that would come there for him with the exception of Tony, who had texted Loki briefly yesterday telling him he would be away for a few days. So all in all, Loki really didn't have a clue who it could be. 

Suddenly curious, he fixed his shirt and opened the door with a cool, calm air. "Can I help you…" 

He faltered and his eyes widened when he saw Tony standing there, eyes unfocused and with blood dribbling down from his cut lip. 

Rarely was Loki speechless, but at that moment he honestly had no idea what to say. So, watching his best friend closely, he stepped aside and let Tony enter the house. Tony swallowed and went inside quickly, and Loki could hear his rapid footsteps as he entered the living room and collapsed on a couch. Swiftly shutting and locking the door, Loki went into the kitchen and grabbed a first aid kit from the main cupboard, also grabbing a wash cloth and gently soaking it in some hot water. He headed to where Tony was sitting, shaking and absentmindedly playing with a string hanging off of the edge of the couch. 

Loki sat down close beside him, gently tilting Tony's head to face him. He fought the urge to flinch when he saw Tony's bruised and cut lip, which was coated in still-fresh blood. Tony was unusually pale, and his eyes, normally so bright and filled with life, were dull and red, focusing on the pillow resting beside Loki's hip even as Loki's own eyes searched him. Loki felt a stab of pain at how hard Tony was trembling, and the fact he wasn't even trying to hide it worried him to no end. 

Cupping his jaw lightly, he carefully dabbed the washcloth along his lip, wiping the crimson off of his chin and around the cut. Reaching into his first aid kit, he grabbed a disinfectant wipe and pressed is ever-so-slightly against the cut. Tony's eyes flickered up and he hissed in pain at the contact, and Loki reached his other hand down and almost mindlessly grabbed Tony's hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing lightly. Tony just squeezed back as Loki worked away at the cut, but didn't let go even after he finished. They sat there for a while, Loki waiting patiently until Tony started to speak. And when he did, after almost twenty minutes of complete silence, his voice was hoarse.

"I hate him."

Loki knew instantly who Tony was referring to. Damn it, Loki should have known this was Howard's fault. Tony's father was practically a mirror image of Loki's, one who was practically never there. Except with Loki, Laufey was just distant and cold, uninterested, whereas when Howard came to visit it usually ended in screaming and blood. Like now, Loki realized with a pang. 

So Loki just sighed, leaning forward until their foreheads were brushing. "I know you do." He whispered softly, hands tightening to the point where it was almost painful. Not that either of them minded, really. Tony seemed to relish at the contact, eyes squeezing shut and a shudder running through him, trying to keep his breathing steady. Their foreheads were practically pressed together now, Loki's free hand reaching up to brush a strand of sweaty brown hair from Tony's face.

"I hate him." Tony repeated, this time more shaky and hysterical.

Loki just pressed the young billionaire's face into his shoulder, wrapping his arms securely around him. "I know." He whispered soothingly as he held Tony close, warm and comforting as he pressed a small kiss to the top of his head. "But I've got you, okay? I'm here, I'm not leaving." 

He could swear he felt Tony smile at this, and heard his shaky whisper. "I know." 

Later on, they never fully acknowledged that moment. But every time they whispered the words "I know," to each other in a situation like this, they finally felt like someone was listening, that maybe they actually understood. 

Like maybe they actually knew. 

~~~

The rain was drizzling on the roof of the tower, the faint sound deafening to Tony's ears. He sat there restlessly, tapping his finger on his knee, brown eyes flickering between the dark and bleak New York skyline and the unconscious man lying on his guest bed.

Loki. 

Tony still hadn't moved from his spot beside the bed that Loki was lying on. He had been trying to read a newspaper before, but soon gave up. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the man, who was pale and had a bandage covering a long gash across his forehead, but still eerily beautiful, just as he had been all those years ago.

Happy hadn't asked any questions when he saw Tony in the alleyway, cowboy hat in one hand and a knocked-out man lying at his feet. Before he had arrived, Tony had dragged and hid the other men behind some garbage cans, grabbing some soaking wet paper and quickly using it to make sure they were still holding tightly onto their guns.

The two had managed to carry him into the back of the limousine, and Happy (Tony really needed to give the man a raise) had calmly grabbed a first-aid kit and treated Loki's head wound. He told Tony that the man had a concussion but would be fine, acting reassuring as if he knew, and Tony retorted with a 'take us back to the tower.'

He was never really good at the concepts of 'displaying his gratitude' or 'not being a douchebag' as Clint so delicately put it. Oh well, Tony would just buy Happy (another) seat-cozy later.

The ride back was silent, Tony staring out of the window and trying not to dwell on a) how pissed Pepper was going to be and b) Loki was in his fucking car and what the fuck was going to happen when he woke up and oh fuck-

Tony had been on the verge of some sort of major internal panic attack by the time they had made it back to the tower.

Happy had drove casually into Tony's workshop, parking the car with record speed and even helping Tony carry Loki to the guest room. Tony could feel his eyes boring into the back of his neck the whole time, but pretended to ignore them. After Loki was safely on the bed, Happy had soon left, awkwardly telling Tony to call him if you needed help or anything. Tony just nodded, giving him a small but grateful smile, and turned to his ex-best friend as the other man left.

Tony, as creepy as it sounds, couldn't stop staring at Loki's face. The sharp angles he had long since memorized, the slight curve of his pale pink lips, the peaceful expression that only ever crossed Loki's face when he was asleep (or in this case unconscious). But then there was the dark, bruise-like bags under his eyes, the way his body seemed to be permanently stiff and tense, even now, and the slight sheen of sweat that rested on his forehead that was a sure sign of an up and coming fever.

Concern suddenly ripping through him, Tony leaned forward and pressed a hand softly to Loki's pale forehead. Sure enough, he could feel heat radiating off of it, causing Tony's lips to curl into a slight frown as he absentmindedly wiped a strand of damp black hair from his face.

…The last thing he expected at that strangely intimate moment was for green eyes to fly open and a cold wrist to grasp his own.

Tony gasped and started, nearly toppling off his chair. The hand gripping his wrist soon fell to the bed once more, but Loki's eyes stayed open, fixated on Tony as he sat up slowly.

God knows how long they stared at each other. Longer than at the restaurant, for sure. That may be due, however, to how disoriented Loki clearly was, his bright eyes slowly coming into focus and losing their foggy glaze. Tony braced himself for when they finally did.

He watched as Loki's eyes widened with sudden realization, shock clouding his gaze.

Then suddenly, Loki's eyes narrowed into icy, snake-like slits.

"Anthony." His voice was flat. "How lovely to see you."

Ouch. Tony still reacted on instinct, despite the jagged pain that seemed to rip through his chest at Loki's harsh tone. "Well hello to you too. And is that any way to address the man who is housing you?" He raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance despite the uncontrollably rapid pounding of his heart.

Loki stared at him coolly, lips pursed tightly. His hand was still pressed to the wound on his head, and Loki seemed to press with more force at Tony's words. Tony had seen Loki act like this towards other people before, dozens of times, and used to find it entertaining to watch people's usually-scared reactions. But Tony had never actually been on the receiving end of it before, and damn did it hurt.

"…So what brings you to New York?" Tony asked feebly when it became apparent the other was not going to start speaking. Instead of replying, Loki just shook his head and stood up, clearly intent on getting out of there as soon as possible. But instead, he stumbled slightly, clearly about to topple over. Without thinking, Tony had his hands tightened around the man's waist, holding him up and close.

As cheesy and stupid as it sounds, it was a bit like time had stopped.

As their eyes met, Tony felt his heart start to ache at how right it felt. He could feel Loki's breath, hot and minty, against his cheek, see the range of emotions cloud his gorgeously green eyes at their closeness, feel the damp shirt and cool leather clinging to Loki's still-lean hips. Tony swallowed slightly, not willing to move away, but also wary of the fact that Loki probably is still prone to slapping people. But the dark-haired man's eyes suddenly weren't on him.

They were on Tony's arc reactor.

Loki seemed to be mesmerized by it, watching the glowing blue light shining through Tony's thin white shirt with wide eyes. Tony watched closely at his expression closely, which was unreadable and unfocused, when suddenly a pale, shaky hand reached up to trace a faint pattern around the circle. Tony felt his throat close up, a faint but thrilling shiver running down his spine, but didn't protest at the action, which somehow spoke louder than any words or expressions ever could. He was all-too aware of how close they were, bodies nearly pressed together. Tony suddenly felt as he did when he first met Loki: he wanted to untangle him, study him, unravel the mystery that was Loki Laufeyson.

But now, Loki was even more of a mystery to him.

There were so many unanswered questions. Too many for Tony to count, about both tonight and these past few years. They were on the tip of Tony's tongue, begging to be asked, but he seemed unable to do so. He was captivated, wanting nothing more than to just be near Loki again, to re-memorize the sound of his laugh, the spicy yet enthralling scent that always lingered on his skin, just see him smile one more damn time…

Then it was as if Loki had a switch turned on, and he all but leaped back and away from Tony, nearly falling onto the bed in a frantic and desperate attempt to get away. Tony felt a searing flash of distress at this, but fought it back and put on a clear, calm mask. Loki looked away, swallowing harshly, and silence fell once more, and no sound remained except the pitter-patter of the rain that was methodically hitting the tower.

"…why am I here?" Loki eventually asked, gaze flickering to Tony, as cold as he was before.

"Because I found you in an alleyway surrounded by a bunch of armed guys who seemed to have gotten the shit beat out of them. Care to explain?" Tony's response was harsher than he intended, but he had never exactly excelled at self-control.

Loki's eyes narrowed even further. "I don't have to explain anything to you." He responded calmly with a slight warning edge to it.

"Actually, I think you do. I dragged your unconscious ass over here, I helped you, and I am pretty sure you owe me a debt for that. And didn't you always tell me that debts are made to be repaid? Screw telling the truth, but once you're in debt-" He paused, before sighing and taking a deep breath to keep from letting his anger and other emotions spill over even further. "Look, I think this counts as you owing me a debt. So, what happened to those guys?" He looked at Loki directly, who was watching him with wariness and some other unidentified emotion shining in his eyes. He looked away at this.

"Things change. You and I know that better than anyone."

Now it was Tony's turn to look away. "Morals shouldn't." He eventually stated.

"Yet they do." Loki turned to him, "Have yours?" There was a twisted humour to his words, and Tony knew instantly what Loki was referring to. He remembered the times before Afghanistan and being Iron Man; his playboy, I-don't-give-a-shit reputation, even when they were in high school and college (of course, Loki knew him better than that, but it still stood). Then there was his after-Afghanistan one, where everyone was under the impression that he was falling apart. Then, he was Iron Man. Sure, he still held part of that before-Afghanistan reputation and demeanour, but he had changed and grown, and everyone knew that. He had a responsibility now, and he would not let the people he cared about, or anyone else, down. And now, he was almost someone the world, and he, could be proud of.

(Almost.)

Tony felt anger run through him, hot and fast, at those words and the memories they brought back. Loki was staring at him with those poisonous eyes, a perfect eyebrow raised as he waited for a response at the question. He wanted a reaction from Tony, he realized, and although Tony was an expert on keeping a handle on his emotions, he didn't deserve, or want, this.

Though he had never admitted it to anyone, he had imagined a thousand different scenarios in which he and Loki had met again. And while most of them had never started well, this was never supposed to happen. It was childish on Tony's part, these pathetic thoughts and happily-ending fantasies, but as Clint had stated, however jokingly, more than once before, 'The heart wants what the heart wants'.

And he had just rescued the guy from lying in a disgusting alleyway in a pool of his own blood, saved him from being found in a potential crime scene, abandoned his date and chasing after him through New York City of all places, and god maybe they had a slightly chaotic past together but Tony didn't deserve this.

So he turned to Loki, eyes flashing. "Look, I get that you are still pissed-"

"Still pissed about what?" Loki asked, a small but somehow pained smirk on his face, standing up from where he was previously sitting on the bed, hands staying limply at his side.

"Jesus, it's been how long now?" Tony nearly snarled. "Since all of that shit happened between us, let alone we even saw each other? Did it ever even fucking occur to you that-" Tony stopped there. That what?

I missed you I need you I just wanted to hear your goddamn voice I wanted to know where the fuck you were and how you were doing I was lost without you I never let go and I never want to.

Tony swallowed, a funny taste in his mouth before asking evenly, suddenly feeling drained of anger. "-to see how you were doing."

That worked too.

Loki's eyes narrowed at the billionaire, "And why would you care?" he asked, voice like acid, but Tony noticed that he was trembling ever-so-slightly.

Tony visibly recoiled, and shot back, "When did I not? Look, just because we fucked up-"

"We fucked up? Anthony, I recall that you were the one-"

"-That knew what he was getting into and didn't want to risk it-"

"-Yet you were the one who always thrived on taking risks-"

"-Well maybe I was tired of it-"

"-So I wasn't worth the risk then?"

"That isn't true: you know you were worth everything to me!"

Both fell silent at this; Loki in shock, Tony breathing heavily and in a state of horror at what he had just admitted.

You know it's true. A little voice in the back of his head taunted him. And okay, maybe it was, but Tony, once upon a time, had had a better filter then this. Except when he was around Loki, of course.

Some things, clearly, just don't change.

Loki's eyes lost some of their venom, his face slowly draining of his previous harshness until he had placed his typical, cool and detached mask in place.

"Thank you, Anthony, for allowing me to stay here during my rest. But I must be on my way now." He spoke calmly, his voice silken as always, but more even than it had been during this whole exchange. Slowly but without wavering, he exited the room.

(Before Tony could see the pain in his eyes.)

Tony let Loki go despite himself, despite the twisting of his gut and the panic seeping through his bones, and despite the fact that Loki was unconscious just a few minutes ago with a fucking concussion and he really should not be moving, let alone leaving. When Tony spoke, it was in a monotone voice. "JARVIS, let him go, don't have anyone interfere." He paused, before slowly saying, "But I want tabs on him. Hack into whatever cameras you need to, use whatever methods possible, but I do not want to lose him again, understood?" His voice grew more and more determined as he spoke.

He also chose to ignore the fact that he was now sort of attempting to borderline stalk his ex-best friend, and that this could only get him hurt and end badly.

Closing his eyes and running his hand through his hair, causing it to stick up messily, he staggered over to the small fridge he always kept loaded with some extra beer bottles and scotch. Swiftly taking out a bottle, he expertly popped off the cap and took a giant swig, welcoming the familiar burn and bitter taste that it brought. Leaning back against a nearby table, he sunk down until he was sitting, eyes wandering around the workshop as his vision blurred slightly at the edges.

His inner turmoil was interrupted by the sudden vibrating of his suit pocket. Groaning slightly, he reached down and fumbled for the phone until it was held firmly in his grasp, glancing at the screen…where the bright, beautiful face of one Pepper Potts was illuminating it.

Tony instantly froze, hand tightening involuntarily around the bottle.

He was so screwed.

He had run out on her, on their anniversary date, in public, with no clear (at least not to her or anyone else) explanation, or update on why he did it even after Loki had left. If he was being honest with himself, his girlfriend was the last thing on his mind when those intoxicating emerald eyes had met his once more.

Preparing himself for the onslaught, and knowing he couldn't put this off for long anyway, Tony pressed 'answer' and held the phone slightly away from his ear. "Hello?"

The screaming Tony had been expecting never came. There was only a sigh, made fuzzy by the phone's bad reception. "What the hell happened Tony?" Pepper eventually asked, and Tony didn't miss the cold edge to her voice.

Wincing, Tony sat up straighter and set the bottle down with a soft ping. "Pep, I-"

"Did you know the press are already on this? That there is all this new speculation, and do you know how damn humiliating you leaving me there, and on today of all days, was?" She finished breathlessly and with a raised voice, anger seeping into it as she ranted.

Tony fought back a rising headache, Pepper's words sending spikes of guilt throughout him. "Pepper, I promise I will take care of the press, and set them straight. I am so sorry, but I will make it up to you, I promise. I just…thought I saw someone on SHIELD's wanted list outside, and I had to make sure I was wrong." He blurted out, hating how easily the lie came.

There was a tense pause, then another sigh. "Were you wrong?" She asked.

"I-yeah, I was. And I am sorry I didn't call after that, but I got mobbed by some wannabe journalists-"

(In another life, he could remember teasing Loki, saying 'Lies never get you anywhere, now do they?' Loki simply laughed and smirked at this, but his eyes had darkened slightly with bitter disbelief when he thought Tony wasn't looking. And it was only years later that Tony had begun to understand why.)

"-and couldn't get away. But I swear I will make it up to you, however and whenever you want, okay?" He finished, waiting to hear Pepper's reaction.

More resigned sighing, and then she spoke. "Okay Tony. Just….shut up the press, okay? I'll be back at the tower later." She sounded tired, but Tony could tell she forgave him. He felt his heart clench at this. She's too good for me. "Love you." She added.

"Love you too." Tony replied before hanging up the phone, ignoring how foreign those words sounded on his lips.

Scrolling through his phone, Tony realized he had two text messages. The first was from Fury.

Anything on the assassin yet?

Tony suddenly remembered that he agreed to do that yesterday, and decided to reply with:

Yes, of course I do. His name is Steve fucking Rodgers. Didn't you here that Cap went rogue? Look, you just gave me the damn job yesterday, so I will inform you at a decent time when I have something. And I better be getting paid for this. 

Smirking to himself and taking pleasure in the eye twitch he probably just caused the SHIELD director to have, Tony then checked his other message. Funnily enough, it was from Steve.

Doom is screwing around with us again. Doombots on the lower east side of New York. WHERE ARE YOU?

Vaguely wondering how Steve managed to send a freaking text in the middle of a battle, then realizing he probably just had a nearby agent quickly do it, Tony flinched and got up, stretching as he made his way over to the centre of the workshop, feeling the cool metal cuffs around his wrists dig into his skin as he flexed them.

"Time to suit up." He muttered, mostly to himself, and he heard the familiar clang of metal as the suit suddenly encased him in its heavy, iron grip, fitting around his body perfectly. His vision was swiftly filled with images and words and schematics, all courtesy of JARVIS, who greeted him with a, "To the East side of the city, sir?"

Tony just nodded, feeling a small smile spread across his face as the metal suit sprung to life and he rocketed out of the tower. Maybe this was good. You know, not the whole Doom-trying-to-kill-and-destroy-New-York-again part, but the battle part. It would take his mind off of Pepper and fixing the press, Fury's questions about his progress on the assassin…Loki. Especially Loki. And maybe it would even allow him to take out some of his anger and pain on the whole, new situation revolving around him….not that he had a lot.

But if he said that, that would be lying again, wouldn't it?

~~~

Loki walked through the darkness and rain of New York City, feeling vaguely sick… and not just because of the wound on his head.

What the absolute hell just happened? 

The last time he was knocked out, he woke up in Beijing, tied to a chair and with a knife to his throat, courtesy of a man hired by the Chinese mob to take him down. Of course, he wasn't the one who died that day, but either way, Tony was lucky that Loki was so out of it that time, and that he didn't get a bullet between the eyes the moment Loki's eyes flickered opened. Which brought him to his next point.

Tony.

Loki admits he was harsh and perhaps too cold while talking to him. But seeing Tony had brought back an massive tidal wave of memories and feelings that he hadn't expected and was not prepared to deal with. He had built a solitary life, one where he was the definition of the perfect, (mostly) emotionless assassin. Loki was cool, calm, and capable of almost anything he so desired. And yet when he saw Tony, that wall that had spent years perfecting was sent crumbling to the ground. So he reacted as he always did when cornered: he lashed out, was cold and icy, unyielding and even downright cruel.

And if there was one thing even Tony couldn't fully see through, it was that mask (if only because Tony was just as good at using that same one as Loki was).

He also knew that walking out like that was foolish, all things considering, and awfully reckless. Tony saw what happened with the men in the alleyway. He saw that Loki was (almost) the last one standing, and that something was very clearly wrong with the whole situation. He could tell the police or his 'Avenger' friends about this, who may be the only ones capable of tracking him down. They, Tony especially, could ruin Loki, and yet he left abruptly, without giving any proper excuse to justify and cover up what he did.

But the idea of staying in that room any longer, bright brown eyes unwinding him and watching him like he knew, wasn't an option in Loki's mind.

Loki realized he was heading down to the alleyway, walking faster than normal to get there. That's when he saw the small crowd around it, and the police tape blocking its entrance. Police cars, some still flashing hues of red and blue against the broken-down building walls, and others with alarms still blaring, formed a half circle around it.

Loki froze, dread clouding him, and was about to turn and get the hell out of there when he saw an officer stepping in front of the agitated crowd and say in a loud, gruff voice "Everyone, please, settle down, settle down." Warily and still prepared to bolt, Loki lingered at the fringes of the crowd and waited to hear what the man was announcing, heart pounding.

"We can inform you that an apparent brawl took place here recently. However, the men found here were armed and we believe this was just a one time incident, most likely gang-related. We are on the look-out for at least one more person who was involved, and who was responsible for hiding the men behind surrounding garbage cans. It was only due to the diligence of our officers on patrol-" (Loki almost rolled his eyes at this.) "-that they were found. We urge you to keep your eyes out for any suspicious activity, and also to take caution around here, but we suspect the men have already fled far from the scene and should be of no danger. If you have any concerns, please talk to one of the surrounding officers. Thank you for your cooperation." The man turned away at this and started discussing something with the two uniformed men flanking him.

Loki had been frozen slightly as he listened, stumbling as he was forced moved along with that crowd and away from the 'crime scene', mind whirling. So before taking Loki to the tower, Tony had hidden the men away from sight? Why? And why chase after Loki when he saw him in the first place, then help him despite the consequences, and the fact that he could be clearly tied to whatever occurred in the alley? Why go through any of it?

Loki remembered their final exchange all those years ago, that stupid night that fucked it all up and the morning after it that ended in a broken heart. He knew that no matter how much Tony pretended, he never cared. At least, not like Loki had. So why did Tony do all of that for him?

Now, Tony wasn't the only one with unanswered questions.

Feeling even more ill at those unpleasant thoughts and the memories that came flooding back at them, Loki turned and headed down a more busy road, tightening the coat around him and the scarf he realized he was somehow still wearing (even though the patches of it were saturated in blood) and intending to find his car and get back to wherever-the-hell he had checked himself into while staying in the city. He melded in with the crowds of people that even at this time of night floated around the city, some mindlessly chatting or texting on their phones, oblivious to what surrounded them, while others racing around with umbrellas fluttering above them in the wind to avoid the oncoming downpour.

Everyone looked up and paused, however, even Loki, when a blur of red and gold was seen racing through the sky, heading in some unknown location. Some people gasped, others even cheered as they saw the infamous 'Iron Man' flying through the sky. Loki abruptly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stayed there even after Tony was out of sight, ignoring the people who ran into him as they glared and swore under their breaths.

He could be in trouble, going into the line of fire, risking his life, as always. His mind taunted him, and Loki absolutely despised the panic that gripped him like a cold fist at this. But, after all, he was used to the feeling when it came to Tony, and since the superhero always managed to get out of it alive, Loki had learned to ignore the feeling. Even after all that had happened that night.

So, fighting back the bitter sour-milk taste in his mouth, Loki shoved his hands further into his pocket, looked away, and kept walking.


End file.
